The Desecrated

Havalar covered his nose against the stench of rot and decay while he hurried past the mass grave to the temple. Tears prickled his eyes as he thought about all the children buried inches below the surface he walked on. He picked up the pace, nearly running by the time he crashed through the tall wooden doors. “Havalar, you’re late.” A man in long richly colored robes looked up from the book he was perusing. “Forgive me, Your Worship. The guests were restless.” “No matter. Please, sit.” He gestured to the pew and Havalar sat. Havalar shifted nervously as he watched High Priest Arke carefully place a marker in the book and close it. A bead of sweat ran down his temple and he wiped it away quickly. “Do you know why you are here today, my son?” “No, Your Worship.” Arke nodded and sat next to Havalar. He did his best not to squirm, having never been so close to such a high-ranking member of The Desecrated before. The man was missing his right eye and several fingers, but still somehow managed to look regal. “You are here,” he placed a gnarled hand on top of Havalar’s, “because we have chosen you to lead in the Ritual of Ghosts.” Havalar’s eyes widened and his hand twitched. He forced himself to keep from pulling away in disgust. “Yes, Your Worship. Thank you for such an honor.” He bowed his head. To Arke, it was in deference, but in reality, it was to keep the High Priest from seeing the tears return to his eyes.

Arke picked up the book he had been reading. It was thin and bound in dark old leather. A withered hand jutted from the cover with a pale human eye set in its palm. A polished buckle held it closed. As Havalar accepted the book, a feeling like spiders crawling up his spine came over him. He suppressed a shudder and glanced up at the High Priest. “Not just anyone gets the chance to read the Immortal Nexus, my son, but read it you will and tomorrow you will return here with a child. With any luck, you will be chosen to understand the contents and complete the ritual for the first time in history. If not, well, what’s one more sacrifice to the mighty Ah’ȳl?” Arke placed a hand on Havalar’s shoulder before standing and returning to his study near the back of the temple Havalar watched him go before rushing out as fast as his legs could carry him; the dark book pressed tightly to his chest. The fingers seemed to grab at him, catching the front of his robes and prodding as if trying to dig out his heart from between his ribs. He didn’t stop until the smoke from the hut he shared with his father came into view. Instead of going in, he leaned against a tree to catch his breath. It wouldn’t do to allow his father to see how scared he was, how revolted over the thought of causing the death of a child he himself had kidnapped and cared for. Controlling himself, Havalar walked through the front door with his head held high and the Immortal Nexus held loosely in his hands. His father was at the fire, stirring a pot exuding the aroma of meat and spices with each turn of the spoon. He looked up at his son and noticed the book in his arms, saying nothing, but Havalar noticed the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. They nodded to each other and Havalar made his way to his room. After shutting the door quietly behind him, he sat at his desk, fingers trembling as he set the book down and released the buckle. Without warning, the eye swiveled to look at him. If he hadn’t frozen, Havalar would have screamed, but the eye drew him in. Sweat beaded on his brow, and his heart raced. He couldn’t look away, he couldn’t even breath. All he saw was the clear colored eye, red veins bulging as it bore into his soul, and as quickly as he was taken, Havalar was released. The eye twitched back to its normal position and lay still. He let out the breath trapped in his lungs, clenching cold clammy hands and shaking himself. Now was not the time to be afraid. Once again, he reached for the book, stopping before pulling open the cover to glance at the eye. When it didn’t move, he flipped the cover open and set his gaze on the front page. It was covered in barely legible script in a language he didn’t know. It didn’t even flow left to right like the books he was used to, but in geometric patterns; starting downwards then making a sharp right before shifting upwards again. Havalar stared, mystified. It was no wonder the ritual failed time and time again. The book was impossible to decipher! He sighed and almost closed it, but as his hand hovered over the cover, something happened. The words began to move. They swam across the page like fish in the sea, bumping into one another until they resembled something that made sense. He lowered his hand slowly, his heart thudding against his chest. Scooting his chair closer, Havalar lit a candle and started to read. *** Havalar closed the book an hour before the ritual. He felt feverish and unsure of himself. The next couple of hours would determine if he would become the god of a new race, or the harbinger of death. Steadying himself, Havalar stood, put on his ritual robes, picked up the book, and left the hut. His father was already gone, leaving early to lead morning prayers, as was his duty.

Instead of going straight to the temple, Havalar turned right and made his way to the long, low building where they kept the children. On the way, he stopped by his fellow priest’s house to pick up breakfast for the kids. “Thanks, Brin,” Havalar said, taking the tottering plate. “Good luck with the ritual, I’ll see you again tomorrow.” Brin nodded at him and turned back to his hut. Havalar could hear the murmurings of the children through the thin walls as stood outside, book in one hand, sweet cakes in the other, while he ran through each child’s name in his head. There was Avalon, a sweet little girl with blonde hair turned brown from the dirt. Next was Tae, the smallest boy of the bunch. Havalar had found him scrounging in the woods for food because his parents were already dead, killed by bandits and their farm burned. Merrin was fond of blueberries and whenever they had some with a meal, he often traded his bread for them. And Sarn, the youngest of all, hated spiders and refused to sleep until the other kids agreed to protect her throughout the night. By the time Havalar clicked the lock and bumped open the door with his hip, tears covered his cheeks. It was all he could do to hold back the sobs threatening to overwhelm him. It was easier when someone else picked the child. At least then he didn’t have a choice of who was sent to their death, even if it broke a bit of his soul every time. “What’s wrong, Mr. Havalar?” Avalon’s high pitched voice broke through his misery. “Nothing you need concern yourself with, young miss.” He ruffled her hair and sent her away with a cake. He set the plate on the floor and the ravenous children attacked it. Stepping back to watch them, Havalar noticed one was missing. He glanced around the building and found Darrin standing back from the rest, watching him. The boy was the oldest and had seen many of his companions leave and never come back. Darrin stepped forward, never taking his eyes off Havalar. “If I go, will they be safe for a little while longer?” Havalar stared at the child who barely came up to his belt. The boy was brave, unlike himself. Unable to keep his gaze, Havalar dropped his eyes and nodded. Darrin took a deep breath, glanced back at the other kids one last time, and took Havalar’s hand. The bright light of the morning sun hit their eyes, momentarily blinding both boys after the dark interior of the low house. Darrin was silent the entire way to the temple. He didn’t even look at the unfamiliar sights like most children. The only time he showed any emotion was when they passed the graveyard and a single tear dropped to the dry earth. They stopped outside the doors and glanced at each other. Darrin nodded and Havalar pushed them open. The temple was busy with activity as priests readied it for the Ritual of Ghosts. Pews were removed and a huge pattern was drawn in chalk on the floor. This wasn’t the first ritual Havalar had attended, but it was the first time he realized the pattern on the floor matched the pattern of the language inside the Immortal Nexus. Darrin tugged on Havalar’s hand and he leaned down. “What do I do?” he whispered, his eyes wide while watching the progress of the priests. “Just wait here and when instructed, lay down in the middle of the circle.” “Am I going to die?” Havalar locked eyes with the boy and touched his face. “Not if I can help it.” He stood and walked away, leaving Darrin looking small as priests hurried around him. Havalar made his way to the back of the temple where a pot of white paint stood. He took a glob in his hand and smeared it across his face and exposed skin. The others did the same until Darrin was the only one who looked human. Havalar took his place at the head of the geometric pattern. Darrin was led into the middle and he lay down, his body trembling. Candles were lit around the outside circle, casting strange shadows onto the temple walls. A hush descended as the priests knelt well away from Havalar. A low hum began, rising and falling in tone. Havalar swallowed and gripped the Immortal Nexus tightly to keep his hands from shaking. He flipped to the marked page and began to chant in Slatah’ȳl, the language of the Ghosts. Mo lȳfarā mahtsǝ ym mo kōja et tsahk thomǝ aht mahk mo wonta. Aht si jahtǝ mahk mo jut mahk mo lahtwah et mo ahki. Mahk wonta sa thoma mahk ras wonmōrkah jowu.

As the last word rang out, Havalar drove a dagger into Darrin’s chest. The boy gasped and betrayal peered out from under lifeless lids. Nothing happened. The High Priest took a step forward to announce another failure when the ground rumbled. The shaking traveled up the temple walls, knocking over anything not already on the ground. Havalar fell to his knees beside Darrin’s body, clutching the Immortal Nexus close to his body. Rocks rained from above, and he was sure they were all about to die when everything stopped moving. Priests uncovered their heads, looking around, when an earsplitting crack echoed across the land and a second, more violent shaking started. Opening his eyes just in time, Havalar saw the pattern on the floor glow. He scrambled backwards as it became brighter and brighter, and just like that, it all stopped. Ears ringing, Havalar crawled to Darrin, pulling the boy’s head onto his lap. His eyes fluttered open, crystal clear rather than the muddy brown from before his death. Havalar gasped, dropping the Immortal Nexus and quickly removing the blade from Darrin’s chest. It clattered to the stone floor, as clean as the moment before being buried in the boy’s body. “Darrin?” Havalar whispered, unable to hear his own words. The boy, now as pale as a ghost, stood and dusted himself off. He turned slowly, looking at every single staring priest, and walked out the front doors. A cheering erupted around Havalar as he sat in stunned silence. Arke pulled him up and thrust his hand into the air. “Behold! The Ah’ȳl have chosen! Hail Ko’ūja Havalar!” *** Havalar had to stay in the temple for several more hours, recounting his chant exactly as others copied it down, so when he did finally leave, he nearly fell to his death. The earthquakes split open the ground and separated, creating a gigantic chasm spreading as far as the eye could see in either direction. It passed through the graveyard and Havalar gagged as bodies of the children he helped bury over the years hung half out of the ground in different states of decay. As he watched, loose dirt gave way, and a skeleton fell from its grave, tumbling into the deep darkness. Havalar couldn’t hear it hit the bottom. He hurried away, wandering around the huts that served as the priests homes, looking for Darrin. When he got to the children’s home, he found the door hanging loosely on its hinges. Biting his lip, Havalar threw it open and breathed a sigh of relief when he found all the children inside gathered around Darrin. They stared up at him reverently, touching his arms and clothes. Darrin glanced up and smiled as Havalar stood watching them. The boy extracted himself and made his way over. “Thank you, Mr. Havalar, for saving my life. Does this mean everyone else will live too?”

The boy’s big clear eyes gazed up at him and he fell to his knees, taking Darrin’s hands. “I hope so,” he whispered and looked at all the kids. “I hope I can save every one of you.” Even as he spoke, a wiggle of doubt broke through. There was no promising the ritual would work a second time or even a third. They had tried hundreds of times. What made this one so different? *** Merrin was the second one Havalar turned. He nearly cried in relief when the boy opened his eyes, but kept himself under control. They walked together back to the children’s home, avoiding the chasm as best they could. Rumors of weird noises started circulating the temple and word from neighboring villages proved it wasn’t just them hearing things. “What’s down there?” Merrin asked. Havalar kept tight hold of his hand to keep the boy from inching closer. “I’m not sure, and I don’t really want to find out.” The very next day Avalon was chosen by the High Priest himself to undergo the ritual. Havalar smiled when they brought her into the temple. She smiled back, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Her face was almost the same color as his paint covered one. The girl lay down on the cold floor, clenching tiny fists. A cool breeze rustled Havalar’s hair as the last of the priests entered the temple, bringing with them the smell of rain. Goosebumps rose across his arms and the back of his neck, and something told him this was wrong. “Your Worship, I don’t believe we should continue with the ritual today,” he whispered when he found Arke in the crowd. “My dear boy, you have been doing so well. Why in the world do you want to back out now?” “I just...I have this bad feeling. Maybe if we waited one more day –” “I don’t see how it would matter. You must persevere, Ko’ūja. You have given our gods vessels so they may walk among us again.” He pat Havalar’s shoulder affectionately and took his place. Havalar sighed and did the same, picking up the dagger and book with clammy hands. The low humming began and Havalar did his part, chanting in tune and raising the dagger on the last note, plunging it into Avalon’s chest. Her eyes flew open and the air hissed from her lungs. She lay still as the priesthood held a collective breath. A thin rivulet of blood ran around the knife’s blade, staining her shirt red. Havalar’s eyes widened and he took a step back, shaking his head. Avalon was dead. He clutched the podium to keep himself upright as a sigh echoed around the temple and priests rose to their feet. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Ko’ūja,” Arke said, coming up behind him. “No one expected it to work every time.” “But why? Why didn’t it work?” Havalar asked, his voice hoarse. Arke shrugged, “Who knows? Maybe because it’s raining outside, maybe you spoke too slowly. Or maybe it’s because she’s a girl. Don’t worry, we will figure it out.” Havalar felt sick to his stomach as he watched Arke walk away. The man hadn’t even cared that another child fell victim to their unholy religion; had taken Havalar’s mood as disappointment in himself rather than guilt of killing another person. He saw Brin taking Avalon’s body and followed him out the doors, running to catch up as he saw where the body was being taken. “No, wait!” Havalar cried, but he was too late. Brin threw the girl’s body into the chasm. Just as the priest turned away, a large scaly tail shot from the chasm and smashed him in the head, throwing his body farther than any man. Havalar’s eyes bulged as a creature climbed from the pit, using claws as long as the dagger he had used to kill Avalon. It had scales all over its body and huge leathery wings, but its head…

Havalar shut his eyes and shook his head, unable to believe what he was seeing. Its face was that of a child sacrificed more than a month ago. Maggots fell from its eye sockets as it set its sights on Havalar. He screamed and the thing shot into the air. Priests streamed from the door, pointing and yelling as the beast circled the temple, screeched, and plunged back into the chasm. Havalar ran, not stopping until he reached his hut, slammed the door behind him, and hid in his room until Arke found him huddled under his blankets the next morning and dragged him back to the temple. They brought in Tae with his hands and legs bound, having fought the priest who went to fetch him tooth and nail. Havalar didn’t hide his misery as they tossed the tiny boy into the middle of the pattern, but he performed his duty like the coward he was. This time, however, the ritual worked. Tae went back to the children’s home, taking the long way around avoid the chasm which the priests now referred to as the Abyss. “Please stay, Ko’ūja.” Arke laid a hand on Havalar’s arm as he prepared to leave. “I am almost sure the reason the ritual didn’t work yesterday is because Avalon was a girl, but there is only one way to check for sure.” Havalar blanched. He thought he would have one more day; one more day to get Sarn to safety, but that hope was dashed as two priests brought her in kicking and screaming. For a girl who barely came up to knee height, she fought harder than most wild animals. The whites of her eyes shone and she bared her teeth as she wrenched against the hands that held her. Unable to look, Havalar focused on wiping clean the dagger. When he looked up, Sarn was still, her eyes closed. A priest had knocked her unconscious. Havalar gave thanks she wouldn’t see her own death coming. Once again, he felt the outcome of the ritual before it even started, but he went through the motions. The humming, the chant, the dagger. When it was over, Arke walked over to him, nodding as he watched Sarn’s body taken away. “Bury it,” he said, unwilling to give the monsters of the Abyss reason to come out again. To Havalar he said, “This proves it. Girls bodies are not pure. The Ah’ȳl will only take boys as their vessels.” Havalar nodded and cleared his throat. “W-what will we do with them?” “There will be more experiments. We must determine if you are the only one able to perform the ritual or if others can as well. Then we must test the limits of the kid’s capabilities and weaknesses. It seems as if Darrin and Merrin are forgetting who they are, which we can use to our advantage.” “What happens to me if others can complete the ritual?” “Don’t worry, Ko’ūja. You will have a special role to play.” Arke smiled at him, but that smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. *** Havalar spent the next few days in his hut and with the Ghost children. The High Priest was right, everyday they forgot more and more of who they were, but they remembered him, remembered the time he spent with them. He brought them breakfast, but most days he ended up bringing it back for himself because they didn’t seem to feel hunger. Sometimes they fought. Havalar had to throw himself in between Tae and Merrin one morning when he found Tae with his teeth wrapped around Merrin’s fingers. The bone showed, but there was no blood. “Your Worship, we have to do something. We can’t keep them cooped up anymore or else they will kill each other,” Havalar pleaded later that day. Arke smiled. “We have a solution staring us in the face, Ko’ūja.”

Havalar perked up. “Really? What is it?” “You.” A sharp pain exploded in Havalar’s jaw and he heard a crack as his vision faded to darkness. It was the intense discomfort that brought him back. Heat spread from his jaw to his head and neck. He tried to ask for help, but he couldn’t talk, couldn’t even move his mouth. Fear skittered down his spine and his eyes flew open. He was looking at the ceiling of the temple, white painted faces staring down at him from every side. “No,” he tried to shout, but it only came out as a gurgle, his mouth full of blood. Havalar rolled to one side and screamed in agony. Glancing down at his body, he found arms and legs jutting out at awkward angles. He fell back, vision clouding again, but the relief of unconsciousness stayed just out of reach. Tears fell from his eyes as the low humming started. High Priest Arke himself chanted over top Havalar, the Immortal Nexus in one hand, dagger in the other. A bright light grew from the pattern, shining brighter and brighter, forcing him to squint. He deserved nothing less than to die like all the children he had killed. All sound stopped, sunlight streaming through a high window flared off the dagger as Arke sunk it into Havalar’s chest. He gasped, the cold metal sliding into his flesh and grinding against a rib. Then, nothing. All went dark. But Havalar could still hear. The breathing of Arke as he stood above him, waiting. The movement of cloth against stone. He could still smell. Blood, his own blood. Sweat from the many bodies crammed into the temple. He could still feel. The stone floor beneath felt almost warm now. The rags of his bloody clothing felt rough against his skin. Then there was something deeper, something primeval tickling his mind. Havalar opened his eyes and saw the temple ceiling, but he didn’t quite recognize it. The colors were different, sharper, and he could see where he once only saw shadow. The pain plaguing his body just moments ago was gone. He sat up and stretched an arm. The bones creaked and popped back into place. The priests retreated from him, falling over each other in their haste. Even Arke took a step back. Havalar stretched his other arm and both legs, then reached to his chest and pulled the dagger from his heart. There was no blood. He rose faster than expected and stood facing Arke. Color drained from the high priest’s face but he didn’t back down. He waved forward a priest holding a rich black cloak and swung it over Havalar’s shoulders. Without taking his eyes off Arke, he grabbed his own jaw and twisted it. The High Priest cringed at the grinding of bone on bone. Havalar opened and closed his mouth, smirking as it popped and began working normally. “Grab him,” Arke said, pointing at Havalar. Two of the closest priests made to restrain his arms, but he threw them off. They crashed into the cluster of priests behind them and lay still. Arke took a few more steps back, a thick pink tongue darted out to lick his lips. “What did you think would happen, Arke?” Havalar asked. His voice sounded deep and strange. “Do you think I’d just submit after what you did to me? After what you did to all those children?” “I-I-” Arke bumped into the podium, unable to go any farther. Havalar loomed over him. He growled, reaching forward. Arke flinched, but Havalar only pried the book from his three fingered grip. He glanced into Arke’s deformed face, white and shiny with sweat. At that point, Havalar realized he was free, free to make his own choices instead of this man keeping him in line with the all those deaths. “I’m done with your lies and secrets, Arke.” Havalar flipped the dagger in his hand and slammed it into the High Priest’s chest.

A scream pierced the air. Havalar ripped out the dagger and turned just as a fellow brother ran at him, mouth open in a snarl. He slashed the dagger and the priest stopped, blood spurting from his neck, and fell to his knees. The rest ran, piling up at the door and shoving each other to get out. Havalar watched as a priest younger than himself fell to the ground and the others trampled him in their haste to get out. A grim smile twisted his lips. Leaving the temple would only make their situation worse. A screech echoed through the open doors. The priests who were out first turned and tried shoving their way back in. Through the opening above their heads, Havalar could see a scaly beast swoop downwards and grab a priest by his robes. The man disappeared with a high-pitched scream. Another scream and there they were. Havalar could feel the Ghost children descending on the priests who had kidnapped, trapped, and killed them. He joined in their fury, his dagger flashing as it scored every inch of flesh he could reach. Not one, but five creatures flew, dived, and crawled over the temple, tearing at any living flesh they could sink their claws into, but leaving the children and Havalar alone. The blood bath was over in less time than it took to complete the Ritual of Ghosts. The monsters with faces of dead kids swarmed the bodies, taking what they could carry and diving back into the Abyss. Havalar stood amidst blood covered stone, not even breathing hard because he didn’t need to breathe. Darrin, his hair turned red and shirt covered in gore, walked over to Havalar and looked up at him. “Your face looks funny,” he said. Havalar reached up, feeling his jawline. The boy was right. Whoever had hit him broke his jaw so bad, half his face caved in. He ripped a piece of cloth from his robe, wrapping it around the bottom half of his face and pulled up the hood on his cloak.

“Better?” Darrin nodded. “What do we do now? Havalar’s eyes strayed towards the Abyss. “We hide, and we train. And one day, the world will feel our wrath.” *** Grendal walked down the path, having failed to obtain more children for High Priest Arke, when he saw the little Ghost kids and the monsters from the Abyss eating their way through his brothers. His face paled as he stood frozen in shock, watching. A shriek above his head shocked him back to life as a gray skinned monster flew over the trees, dripping blood from a dismembered leg. Grendal ran. He ran passed the first village and the second, only stopping at the third because his legs would carry him no further. A shy woman with a little girl on her hip half carried him into her home, setting him by the fire and warming up a stew and some bread. When he was fed and regained some of his strength, Grendal recounted his tale to the woman, switching a few of the more embarrassing details. She brought him to her husband, who listened and spread the word. Within a fortnight, Grendal had amassed his own following, ready to hunt down the Ghosts. Try as they might, there wasn’t a single lead as to where Havalar and the kids had gone. He followed the villagers back home, seething, but he wasn’t ready to give up yet. He would find a way to finish what High Priest Arke started, because he too read the Immortal Nexus and he knew there was a way to summon the gods within their mortal bodies.